The Latest Casebook of Sherlock Holmes
by AwkwardVulpix
Summary: The game is afoot yet again as Sherlock Holmes investigates an ancient curse, a robbed lighthouse, and a Dutch steam ship.   Sherlock Holmes belongs to Arthur Conan Doyle. This stuff belongs to me.
1. The Adventure of the Five Statuettes

Hello, viewers! Long time no see, eh? Anyway, the story. As you've guessed, it's Sherlock Holmes. This story is an adaptation of the Frogwares game "Sherlock Holmes and the Mystery of the Mummy" entitled "The Adventure of the Five Statuettes". Well, it's only _sort of_ based on that game. Okay, really, the only things in common are the names. Our story begins.

()()()

The Adventure of the Five Statuettes

In the early summer of 1899 I encountered a case of absolutely singular interest. Although I have stated of almost every case that I encounter that it is singular, this truly may be the most singular case I have yet encountered.

For the past while, my associate, Sherlock Holmes, had not encountered any case that could be considered interesting at all. I have chosen not to write these down because they are not only quite boring, but show almost no display of his talents of deduction and reasoning, with the possible exception of the case of the heirloom watch, which I have written down.

As Holmes' mind needs interesting work to function, he had gone back to the cocaine, and was injecting his seven per-cent solution of cocaine when a knock came at the door.

When I opened the door, I was surprised to see Holmes' recent cousin-by-marriage, Elizabeth Montcalfe. She was wearing her electric-blue dress, but she seemed especially depressed, judging by the way her head was pointing down.

"Elizabeth!" I cried. "What brings you here at this hour?"

"If you would allow me to come inside, I will explain everything to you and Holmes."

When she came in and sat down, she began explaining why she was here. Holmes was listening intently, hoping that the case would contain something of vague interest.

"Several months ago, my father, Lord Montcalfe, had taken violently ill. The doctor said he had almost no chance of surviving. Just one week before I was married to your cousin, he died in his bed, with me beside him. Before he had taken ill, he was working on a museum built into his mansion, meant for exhibiting the great treasures of the pharaoh Khapaeseth. The world may never see them now.

"Just before he died, he said he had to tell me something of grave importance.

" 'Elizabeth,' he began, 'As you know, I have taken a great many things from the tomb of Khapaeseth. I was not meant to do this thing. He's coming for me.

" 'What do you mean, father?

"He rose from his bed, though just barely. 'The mummy! I've activated the curse, and he's coming for me!  
" 'Father, you must lie down!

"Then, he clutched his chest. 'The curse has found me! Elizabeth, you must not enter, the basement, for that is where the treasure is, and where the treasure is, the mummy…' He fell back onto the bed, and I knew he

was dead.

"I'm very sorry," Said I.

"But something was not right, I know it! My father was in perfect health, and couldn't have caught disease during the prime of his life! He was an active man, you see. I just don't see how a healthy man in his prime could have died of disease. And this nonsense about a mummy's curse is especially strange, because my father was a rational, logical man. He would never accept something as ludicrous as some ancient superstition for his troubles.

"Perhaps he was poisoned, and made an improper connection?" I suggested.

"That is possible, Watson; but with the lack of data, it would be foolish to hypothesize anything. Let us go to the mansion and investigate further.

"I shall get my coat.

"And I shall get us a coach," Said Holmes, getting up from his seat.

"What shall I do?" Questioned Elizabeth.

"Stay here," Said Holmes. "I'll return at five o' clock.

We walked down the stairs, and hailed a cab upon leaving.

"Where to?" Asked the driver, who was awash with the pungent scent of alcohol.

"The Montcalfe mansion, if you please.

"That's pretty far away. Is half a guinea fine?

"Fine." Said my companion.

Holmes paid his fare, and the driver drove drunkenly fast towards our destination. About one hour later, we arrived at the Montcalfe residence, a beautiful mansion of such quality I had rarely seen.

"Wait here," Said my companion. "Oh, and by the way, your girlfriend is undoubtedly very sorry for her outburst, and you should probably try to make amends.

As we walked to the front door, I ventured to ask how Holmes determined that man had a falling out. I already knew that he must have observed, but I was too busy thinking of the case to attempt his methods.

"It was simplicity itself, Watson. Firstly, you undoubtedly noticed that he reeked of alcohol. Secondly, I was able to notice him hiding a small photograph of a beautiful woman in his jacket. Thirdly, his face had slight bruising, about twenty four hours old. From this, I was able to deduce that…"

"His flame had gotten angry at him, assaulted him, and he had taken to drinking. All this must have happened last night, for the bruise to still be there.

"Precisely, Watson. Now, let us begin investigating the case at hand.

Holmes rang the large door-bell, sending a deep ringing throughout the whole manor. In moments, a well dressed, albeit somewhat short, butler came to the door.

"Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson, I presume?

"Indeed," Said I.

"Excellent. Elizabeth told me of your probable arrival. Come, sit down.

The butler directed towards three sofas arranged around a small table. Me and my companion took a seat, as the butler had requested.

"Do you have any questions?" Asked he, sitting down on the sofa across from us.

"Yes." Said my companion. "First of all, was Lord Montcalfe exhibiting any strange tendencies before he caught ill?

"Certainly not; Lord Montcalfe was the epitome of mental health.

"Very good. What were some symptoms of his illness?

"Oh, the usual symptoms. High fever, shaking, that sort of thing.

"Interesting. Now, my friend, Dr. Watson, is obviously a doctor. What would you say those symptoms are a sign of?

"The common flu, of course.

"Do you have anymore questions?

"Yes. Has Lord Montcalfe received any letters since his death?

"Three, in fact. I have not opened them, but I did put them in his bedroom, which is upstairs.

"Those are all the questions I have. You may leave.

The butler got up from his seat, and left for somewhere else in the manor. Holmes and I got up as well.

"Watson, that interview all but confirmed my suspicions.

"What suspicions, Holmes?

"That Lord Montcalfe is still alive, of course!

"But how can that be? Elizabeth saw him die!

"Then Lord Montcalfe must be a very good actor, if he was able to convince her so well. Think of it, Watson. The so-called epitome of mental and physical health, suddenly believing in ancient curses and dying of some common flu? Do these points not strike you as suspicious?

"Well, I will admit that such an occurrence does strike me as quite odd, but what is the point, Holmes?

"I don't yet know why somebody of such high class as Lord Montcalfe would fake his own death, and as I said before, I will not hypothesize until I have more data. Come, Watson, we will now investigate the bedroom.

"Excellent!

"Indeed. Now, we must search for the Lord's bedroom.

Holmes and I went up the grand central staircase, and through the main door.

"Well, we are in the upstairs hallway." Said my companion. "Now, we must find the bedroom. Let's see, bath-room, Elizabeth's quarters…Ah! Here it is!" The door in question was at the end of the hall. On the front of the door was the monogram of Montcalfe himself.

"Blast!" Cried Holmes, trying in vain to open the door. "The door has been locked. We must find another way in.

"I shall go ask the butler for the key.

"No need, Watson. I made sure to bring my lock-pick with me.

"You have a lock-pick?

"Indeed." Holmes took out a long, thin metal piece from his coat-pocket, and in seconds, the door was opened.

The room itself, simply put, seemed like it should have been in Africa rather than England. The entire room was covered with tribal scenery, and a lions head adorned the bed.

"This is a very strange room," Said I.

"Indeed, it is, Watson. But we don't have time to admire this garish scenery. We must find those three letters that Lord Montcalfe received!

"Of course. I shall search these cabinets.

"And I the bed.

We began searching, but after almost two hours, we had not one clue as to the letters locations.

"Holmes, there are no letters in this room. I say we just give up.

"The butler must have lied to us.

"But why, Holmes?

"I fear that this conspiracy goes deeper than I had anticipated. We should return to Baker Street so I can edit my hypothesis in light of this new evidence.

"But Holmes, we only just got here!

"And the case has changed completely.

"Oh, very well.

We exited the room, walked down the hallway and stairs, and went for our cab. To our great shock, the cab was not there.

"Holmes! The cab!

"Is everybody taking part in this bizarre conspiracy?" Holmes asked, sarcasm in his voice.

"I suppose we are stuck here for some time. At the very least, you'll be able to continue your investigation of these bizarre events.

"I suppose."

We turned back around and began the walk back to the door, but a strange noise came from the bushes, stopping us in our tracks.

"What was that?" Asked I.

"It did not sound natural, Watson. Be ready.

I held my ground, as did Holmes.

After several minutes of waiting, a hideous mummy burst from the shrubbery, screaming some ancient curse.

"Holmes! The mummy is real!

"Quickly, Watson, inside!

We rushed for the door, and immediately after opening it closed it again. The mummy seemed to have left, but we were both extremely shaken.

"Lord Montcalfe spoke the truth!" Said I. "There is a mummy!"

"What's going on here?" Asked the butler, coming in from a side door.

"It appears we were just attacked by a man dressed as a mummy, and rather poorly disguised, might I add.

"A mummy!" Cried the butler.

"No, it was a man poorly dressed as a mummy.

"How could you tell?" Asked I.

"Simplicity itself, Watson. Egyptian mummies were wrapped very tightly, and had the arms crossed against the chest. This so-called mummy had several bandages falling away from the body; as the bandages are very strong, and no loose ends were left, it was probably a vague attempt to frighten us.

"Of course!" I cried. "I should have realized it. I suppose I was so frightened I ignored what was right in front of me!

"Indeed. I am beginning to think that this mystery goes deeper than the faked death of Lord Montcalfe.

This revelation shocked the butler.

"Lord Montcalfe faked his own death!

"Yes, he did. The only question that remains is: why did he fake is own death? What motivation did he have that would have made that a logical choice of action?

"None!" Cried the butler. "There are no reasons for Lord Montcalfe to make it seem like he had died! He simply went insane!

"Then why were there no letters in the bedroom?

The butler hesitated, and then came to a realization. "Of course! You must excuse me, I have a very poor memory. I thought I had put them in the bedroom, but I had them with me this whole time! Here, have them.

He handed Holmes three letters, each of them on very cheap parchment.

"Hum! A bill, a different bill…Halloa! This letter seems important!

"What does it say?" I asked.

"I will read it to you. 'Dear Mr. Montcalfe: I am still waiting for my shipment. You said it would be here last week. If I do not receive the shipment by Thursday next, you will regret it'. There is no signature, and it is dated from last week.

"The same day that Lord Montcalfe supposedly died." Said I.

"This is preposterous!" Exclaimed the butler. "Lord Montcalfe faking his own death? A living mummy? What's next? A triple murder?

"It's possible." Said Holmes. "Where was it that he told Elizabeth not to go?

"The basement." Said I.

"Then we shall go to the basement." Holmes turned to the butler. "Where is the basement, exactly?"

"I shall lead you to it." Said he.

"Excellent."

The butler began walking towards the same side door he had gone to earlier. He opened it, and said, "Through this door is the basement. Good luck."

Holmes and I promptly walked through the door, revealing to us a dank, miserable hallway. Continuing down it, we eventually came across a wine cellar. Lying in the middle of the room was, strangely enough, a bed and a table.

"Somebody has been here, Holmes!

"Yes; none other than Lord Montcalfe. He must have hidden here to avoid whoever he was sending the shipment to. Aha!" Holmes held up an extremely filthy bandage. "Here is the so-called mummy. Now all that remains is figuring out what exactly Lord Montcalfe was delivering. Come, Watson, help me lift up this bed.

I walked over to the mattress, and grabbed one side of it. Holmes grabbed the other, and we lifted it away. Under the bed, a hole was carved into the floor, and lying in it was a statuette.

"Interesting!" Said Holmes, picking it up. "It is Anubis, ancient Egyptian god of the dead. Watson, have you read the papers recently?

"Certainly.

"Then you have heard the story of the statuette that was stolen from an exhibition of ancient Egyptian artifacts just two days ago?

"Of course! Is this that same statuette?

"It could be. Wait! The wall! There is an outline of a door on it!" Holmes walked to the opposite wall. Looking where he was, I saw the faint outline of a door.

"There is only one way to find out where it leads!" he said, stepping back.

"Holmes, what the devil are you doing!

My question was soon answered. His elbow out, he ran at the wall. The door easily opened with the sheer force.

"Good heavens!" Said I, looking in.

It seemed to be some bizarre laboratory. The air was thick with the smell of laudanum, but there was none to be found in the room.

The room itself was very plain. An empty bookshelf was against one wall, and in the center was a table.

"Look!" Cried Holmes. "On the table are three other statuettes, exactly like the one we have already found!

"Incredible!" Said I.

"Indeed it is." Came a voice from behind us.

"Who's there?" I turned around, and was shocked to find the butler, pointing a gun at us.

"You may be wondering what is happening here. I shall tell you.

"Elizabeth told you how she was there when her father died. What she did not tell you was that I was outside the door, listening to their conversation.

"The instant I heard of an ancient treasure, I knew that I had to get it, curse or not. Thus, I ventured into the basement while Elizabeth was mourning. I discovered this room, and I found that behind the bookcase were five grooves, corresponding to the statuette which you are holding.

"I was able to find four of them hidden throughout the manor without much difficulty, but the final statuette was still missing. Then I realized that the _Standard_ had recently advertised for an exhibition of several ancient Egyptian artifacts. Among them was the final statuette, said to have been donated by Lord Montcalfe himself. I knew this was my chance. I snuck in at night, took the statuette from it's hiding place, and took it back here. Now, if you would be good enough to hand me that statuette, I can finally discover the ancient treasure of Khapaeseth, and become richer than Lord Montcalfe ever was.

"Don't you get it, you fool?" Said Holmes suddenly. "There is no treasure! Lord Montcalfe was lying about this whole thing so Elizabeth would not discover that he was smuggling laudanum to rich buyers! The mummy, the treasure, the curse; it was all a great lie!

"I refuse to believe you!" Cried the butler. "I will show you that there is a treasure, and that Lord Montcalfe is truly dead!

He pushed the bookcase aside, revealing the grooves he had spoken of. Picking up the three other statuettes, he placed them in the grooves.

"Now, Mr. Holmes, place that final statuette in it's groove and tell me that there is no treasure!

Holmes did so, and a slight click came from behind the wall. The wall swung out like a door, and the butler was shocked beyond any rational thought. Inside the room was not treasure, but a variety of beakers and flasks. Sitting in the middle of the room was none other than Lord Montcalfe.

"What!" Cried the butler. "How could this be! The treasure…"

"Does not exist," Montcalfe interjected. "It was all a lie. What you see going on before you is how I had gotten so much money so quickly. It was not through the stock market, as I told you and Elizabeth. I was smuggling laudanum I had created through a method I alone had discovered, and I alone knew about.

"I was going along very nicely, and just one week ago, I had gotten an order from a very high-profile man for a large order of laudanum, for an even larger sum. I had gotten half of it done, when disaster struck. The supplier of my materials burned down, and I didn't have nearly enough materials to complete the rest of the order. When I received the threatening letter, I knew that I would have to go into hiding to avoid disaster. Thus, I faked my own death, and to keep Elizabeth from discovering me, I told her of a fictitious curse. I had prepared a disguise as a mummy to scare people off, but you apparently saw right through it. I got in and out of this room through a secret passage in the garden that only I knew of. Oh, what would Elizabeth think of me!

"We could find out, but unfortunately, our cab-driver left.

"Oh, yes. I frightened him away as well.

"Well, now what?" I asked. "We don't have a cab, so we can't get back to Baker Street to tell Elizabeth what's happened!

"I feel that all we can do is go back up to the foyer and wait there for her to come looking for us.

Thus, we did so. It took some time for Elizabeth to return with a cab, but eventually, she did so.

"Elizabeth!" Greeted Holmes, walking out the door along with me. "You've returned with a cab!"

"Yes. When you didn't return at five o' clock, I got worried, and decided to return to the manor.

"There was no need to worry, Elizabeth. Our cab was simply scared off by the so-called mummy."

Lord Montcalfe walked out the door, eliciting a great shock from Elizabeth.

"Father? How can this be?

"I'll explain it to you," said Holmes. "You see, your father had been engaged in a less-than-wholesome business to give his own mix of laudanum to rich customers. When his supplier burned down, just while he was working on a particularly large batch, he faked his own death, and created a ridiculous story about curses and treasure to keep you from discovering him. However, your butler thought there really was a treasure, and thus stole a statuette from an exhibition, which Lord Montcalfe had donated to ensure that his secret room couldn't be opened by anybody.

"Oh, Elizabeth!" Cried Lord Montcalfe. "What must you think of me, now that you know of my wretched hidden life!

"I do not really know what to think. What I do know is that we should return to Baker Street, and contact the police.

And so it was that Lord Montcalfe's laudanum smuggling business was uncovered and deflated, and a man of great importance was shamed, due to the discovery of his opium addiction.

()()()

Well, there you have it. I know that this would barely be one-fifth of a normal Sherlock Holmes story, but I just wanted to tell a story, and this is it. I still have some Sherlock Holmes stuff planned; mainly a ridiculous, unrealistic crossover, surprise, surprise. Until then, AwkwardVulpix, over and out.


	2. The Adventure of the Trained Cormorant

Hello, readers. If you're a Sherlock Holmes fan, you're in for a treat today: you'll finally be able to read the adventure of the lighthouse, the politician, and the trained cormorant. Yep, that one. Finally, the bizarre noodle implements of this adventure will be explained. On with the show!

The Adventure of the Trained Cormorant

As I have previously alluded to in my stories, there are several of Sherlock Holmes' adventures which have not yet been published, for some reason or another, be it too recent in the public's memory, or not being a good showcase of Holmes' talents. One of these many stories is that of the lighthouse, the politician, and the trained cormorant. I have gotten many letters from my readers asking what this story pertains to, and I have finally decided to publish it for my viewing audience.

It was a glum day in the beginning days of 1897, and Holmes had not found any cases of interest during the Christmas time, but this was typical. Thus, it was to our surprise that at precisely noon, a man knocked on the door.

Answering it, I saw that it was actually two men, which Holmes had no doubt already figured out in his own peculiar way.

One of them, undoubtedly the one who had knocked, was a short, stout man, wearing a cheap bowler hat and a suit that was cheaper still, and could hardly be described as fitting. He seemed very impatient, as he kept tapping his foot and checking his cheap watch.

The other man, just behind him, could almost be considered his exact opposite. A tall, thin, glum fellow, his suit was of the utmost fashion and design, though his eyes were sunken and his back slightly hunched.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" I asked.

The short man spoke up, in quite possibly the rudest manner I have ever heard.

"Listen, we haven't got all day, so could we make this quick and dismiss with the pleasantries?

"Oh, certainly." Said I, not very excited at this prospect.

The fat man pushed me aside and walked up the stairs, followed by the tall man.

"Well, then!" Said I, following them up the stairs.

"Strange," Said Holmes upon our entrance, "I had guessed there were three of you. Anyway, what troubles you?

"I'll explain," said the tall man, in a slow, deep voice.

"Our associate, Mr. Ruthers, is a politician from America. He recently hired us to run a bank he started just last month. It is an old lighthouse that fell out of use, due to the sea industry falling apart in that area during the war.

"In the bank was a large amount of money, close to seven thousand pounds. There are many guards all throughout the bank, each posted at one of the staircases. The guards are on twenty-four hour shifts, switching out for a different set of guards every twelve hours. The main vault, where the majority of the money is located, is at the very top of the lighthouse, and cannot be accessed without being seen by the guards.

"Does anybody guard the main vault?" Asked Holmes.

"Indeed, although he is very bad at his job. He rarely appears at all, and when he does, sober is the least accurate word to describe him. Despite many complaints, from both staff and customers, Mr. Ruthers had insisted that he stayed.

"What is his name?

"Ay, that's the strangest part. Whenever we asked for his name, he refused to tell us. We don't know if he has any relation to Mr. Ruthers, but it is still possible.

"The reason we want your services is because we have suffered from…

"A robbery," finished Holmes.

"Precisely, and it was from none other than the main vault. Over five thousand pounds were stolen. Not only that, but the guard and Mr. Ruthers have both disappeared without a trace.

"Indeed! These details are more fascinating. Come, Watson, we should go to the bank and see what evidence has been left so we may formulate a conclusion.

The short, rude man spoke up again. "We have a cab outside, if you must investigate. I say good riddance to that incompetent sod, anyway.

We followed him, opening the door and hardly bothering to prevent it from closing on the tall man.

"Come on, then!" He exclaimed, somehow already at the bottom of the stairs. "We don't have all day!"

Urged by his rudeness, Holmes, the tall man, and I rushed down the stairs, and were greeted by an impressive hansom upon opening the door.

"Take us to the lighthouse at once," said Holmes.

We all clambered in, and the driver began on his way.

"May I ask what has been stolen?" Queried Holmes.

"Well," started the tall man, "the aforementioned five thousand pounds were stolen, but I had left out the fact that the walls of the vault were completely demolished, and we found this feather." He pulled a black feather from his breast pocket and handed it to Holmes.

"Interesting. I do not think there are any species of bird around here that would have this kind of feather.

"So?" Questioned the short man. "Maybe a bird escaped from the menagerie, somehow."

"And, of course, it immediately flew several miles away to a random lighthouse that had been converted into a bank, only to leave a single feather that would conveniently leave a false trail.

The short man gave a start. "Well, when you put it in those words…

The remainder of the ride was fairly uneventful. The tall man alerted us when we arrived, and exited the cab to begin our investigation.

"One more thing," asked Holmes before entering. "Did Mr. Ruthers have any sort of insurance policy on this bank?

"Yes, actually." Stated the tall man. "He had a fairly large sum available to him in the event of a robbery, from the Wesson Insurance Company in Poole, where our bank is. However, he has not collected it, due to his disappearance.

"Most interesting!" Cried Holmes, opening the door and stepping inside.

The lobby of the bank was a standard affair; several armchairs, some desks, and a large, garish chandelier.

"Come, Watson, we should go to the main vault.

We walked to the nearest staircase, but a guard stopped us.

"Who are you?" He demanded.

"I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my associate, Dr. John Watson. The associates of Mr. Ruthers hired us to investigate the robbery, and his disappearance.

"Oh! You're that consulting detective! Yes, I've read your stories, Mr. Watson. Very interesting, very interesting indeed.

"I must warn you," said Holmes, "My associates accounts are quite thoroughly embellished, and focus more on pointless relationships and meaningless romance than the actual mystery, from what I've read of his.

"Yes, well," I interrupted, "We should be starting on the investigation, should we not, Holmes?

"Oh, yes, certainly! Excuse me, may we go by?

"Of course." The guard stepped aside, and we walked up the stair.

"There are five stories to this lighthouse, and there are guards at each stair, correct?" Holmes asked me, while we were walking up the stairs.

"Of course.

"And they work twelve-hour shifts, before switching out for a different set of them, correct?

"Yes.

"What can you deduce from that, Watson?

"The robber had to have come in during one switch-out, and left during the next.

"There are five stories, Watson. He could not have moved so quickly and avoided being seen. It simply isn't possible.

"Then what solution do you propose, Holmes?

"I have several solutions proposed, but we require evidence. Ah, we are here!

The top floor was mostly indistinguishable from the other floors; rather, it would have been, if the walls were still intact. True to the tall mans word, the walls had been ripped apart, as if someone had set dynamite into it.

"I hadn't imagined the destruction to be this thorough.

"Neither had I. Something must have been hidden in the walls. Hullo!

"What?" Holmes had walked to a section of wall near the window, which was shattered as well.

"This section of wall is not as destroyed as the rest! This must be where the secret was! And look, this window is destroyed, unlike all the others! Yes, that theory is surely correct!

"What theory?

"The walls were destroyed, but this is the only window that got harmed. What can you deduce from that, Watson?

"Of course!" I cried. "Somebody broke in here, but instead of going back down the stairs, he simply threw all the money, and whatever treasure was here as well, out of the window into the arms of somebody else!

"Precisely.

"But what of the feather?

"I'm working on that. We should study this window further." Holmes pulled out his lens, and began looking at the shattered window.

"Hum!" He cried at last.

"What is it, Holmes?

"This thread was stuck in the window. It is the exact same kind of fabric used in the guard's uniforms. The accomplice must have been the guard of this vault.

"And Mr. Ruthers must have been the person who caught the money. How ingenious! Not only would they get the treasure that was here, plus five thousand pounds and the insurance money!

"They would easily become rich. Now, we must figure out what happened last night, and where they've gone.

Holmes picked up a shard of glass, and dropped it out the window.

"What are you doing, Holmes?

"If this is where it was dropped from, somebody had to have been standing there to catch it. By dropping this shard from the window, I can determine where Mr. Ruthers stood when he dropped the money down.

"I see.

Holmes and I walked back down the stairs, but Holmes noticed something I didn't on the next story down: a dead bird of some sort.

"This bird is not one that I recognize. It could be the one that dropped the feather." Holmes picked up the creature. "Aha! It was handled recently, so it must have been used as the signal for the guard to drop the money.

"Indeed!

"Now, we should find where Mr. Ruthers and his accomplice have hidden themselves.

We continued down the stairs, and upon exit, began searching for the shard of glass.

Holmes found it before I did, probably because he had memorized where the window was in relation to the lighthouse, and I ran over at his cry.

Unfortunately, the past night lacked rainfall, and thus there were no prints to be found in the hard dirt.

"Damn it!" Holmes cried. "At least there is enough evidence to show the perpetrators.

Holmes and I walked back to the cab, where Mr. Ruthers' associates were waiting for us.

"Right then, who did it?" Asked the short man.

"You may be shocked to learn that the only reason Mr. Ruthers kept the main guard around was because he was the accomplice in the robbery.

The tall man gave a start. "You don't mean to say…Mr. Ruthers robbed his own bank?

"It was truly ingenious. Not only would he get all the money, but the treasure that was hidden in the walls of the lighthouse, and the insurance money as well.

"Preposterous!" Cried the short man. "This is an insult to all of us, by implying that a man so great as Mr. Ruthers would dare commit such a crime!

"I am also convinced that there is no such person as Mr. Ruthers. When I return to Baker Street, I shall consult my files and see if this so-called politician is really who he says he is.

"Worse and worse! Even if Mr. Ruthers committed the robbery, which he didn't, the concept of him having a false name and identity is more ludicrous still!

"What if you are proven wrong?" Insisted Holmes.

The short man began sputtering, and I was worried he would have a seizure or heart attack.

"I believe we should return to your home." Said the tall man.

"Of course." I opened the door to the coach, and Holmes, the tall man, and I left the short, angry man to fume in rage.

"If this man is really a politician, I should have something under Ruthers in my files."

We had returned to Baker Street, and Holmes was looking through his files.

"Just as I thought.

"What?

"There is no such person as Mr. Ruthers.

"You are right, then! We should go to the Wesson Insurance Company to see if this imposter has collected his money.

"Undoubtedly, he already has. Not only am I sure of that fact, but I am sure of another fact.

"What?

"The 'associates' we met were none other than the robber and his accomplice!

"Incredible!

"It certainly is, and I believe I know how they committed this crime.

"The bird we found was a cormorant, and undoubtedly a trained one. Mr. Ruthers would send the bird up, as a signal for the guard to throw down the money he stole. Adding to that, he destroyed the walls, searching for a treasure that was rumored to be there. This, added to the insurance money, would have made them rich. They are most likely headed for a boat heading off the Thames, and headed towards America, where they will settle down with their newfound riches, or possibly begin a new fraud.

"We must catch them, Holmes!

"I have already alerted Scotland Yard to be on the lookout for them. They will not get away, Watson, even if I have to fight them myself.

"But why did they ask us to investigate?

"To lead us on a false trail while they got their insurance money and escaped.

"I'll get a cab so we may head to the launch.

I rushed out of the room, nearly running into Mrs. Hudson, and ran down the stairs and through the doors, immediately hailing a cab. However, the first cab that came up, to my surprise, was carrying the imposters.

Holmes walked out, having followed me. "I assume these are the men trying to escape?

"Indeed," said one of the detectives. To my surprise, the detective that stepped out was none other than Gregson.

"Gregson!" Greeted Holmes. "I haven't seen you for quite some time."

"Nor I you. Are these the men you were after?

"Indeed. May I finally ask what your names are?

"Yes." Said the short man. "I'm Alfred Jones, and this dullard is James Moriarty.

Holmes and I stepped back, horrified that this man in front of us was Holmes' greatest nemesis, the man thought to be presumed dead, the greatest criminal genius in history.

"What?" He asked. "You didn't really think you were the only one that survived that fall, did you?

Gregson pushed him back into the coach.

"You know, I've often fantasized about escaping from prison, Holmes. Perhaps we will meet again someday?

"I doubt it." Holmes was trying to sound intimidating, but his voice was shaky anyway. "Your entire gang has been demolished.

"Surely not the entire gang. Until next time, Holmes."

Gregson climbed back in, and the coach drove off, carrying the most dangerous man in the world.

"Good Lord." Holmes stumbled back, supporting himself on the wall. "All this time, I had not thought Moriarty had survived, but to know now that he is…we must be careful, Watson. The most advanced prison in the world could not hold him.

We walked back inside, still horrified by this recent turn of events.

()()()

Well, there's a plot twist for you. Thanks to TheLiberalAdmitted for reviewing my story, and I hope you liked it. The next part should be up…eventually.


	3. The Adventure of the Heirloom Watch

Quite a plot twist in that last one, eh? Here's the next story.

()()()

The Adventure of the Heirloom Watch

I have previously referenced this particular case in 'The Adventure of the Five Statuettes', and as I have said before, it is the only other interesting case that summer.

It all began quickly after the arrest of James Moriarty, then and still the most dangerous man in all of Europe, and even possibly, the world. Holmes had theorized that, after the events of 'The Adventure of the Five Statuettes' that it was none other than James Moriarty who had ordered the laudanum, for the simultaneous purpose of ruining Lord Montcalfe's, and the anonymous politician's, lives. With his genius, he was able not only to determine where Lord Montcalfe got his supplies, but a list of all his customers, including a very important member of society. By mimicking his handwriting, he was able to make certain that Lord Montcalfe would produce the order anyway, and promptly burning the supplier to the ground. It was an ingenious plan, though we can only guess as to the vendetta Moriarty had towards Montcalfe that would make him do such a thing. Perhaps it was simply because he was becoming bored, and tried to see how quickly he could ruin two lives at once, by uncovering these facts.

The Montcalfe case was closed, but it turned out that there was another member of the family that had gone missing, as told by Elizabeth Montcalfe, yet again.

The exact train of events was fairly similar to the previous one, in the sense that Holmes had gotten no cases of interest, and had gone back to the pipe. However, something was very wrong, as I noticed while trying to read.

I set my book down and ran out of my room, having detected a rancid burning smell. Opening the door only made it worse, so I pulled my shirt over my nose and demanded to know what this smoke was.

"It is my pipe ash, Watson! Can you not see that?

"Holmes, you have made a mistake! I believe you have grabbed not your ash, but rather hair that the dog left in the slipper.

Holmes paused, and snuffed out his flame. "I could not tell the difference. Perhaps I should change the pharmacy. Watson, open the window, could you?

I gladly did such. As I did, I saw somebody walking towards our door, and realized it was Elizabeth Montcalfe. I hoped dearly that she had a case of great interest for us, as I did not want another cloud of noxious fumes in the apartment.

As I opened it, I noticed somebody in a beautiful blue dress opening the door to our apartment. To my surprise, it was Elizabeth Montcalfe, come again for Holmes' assistance.

"Elizabeth!" I cried. However, she was already in the door at that point, so she did not hear me. I took my head from the window, and Holmes, as if on cue, asked, "Were you referring to Elizabeth Montcalfe?

"Yes, I was. She has returned for some reason I cannot guess.

"It must be more family troubles. Ah! Here she is now.

Elizabeth had opened our door, and was just as stunning as the last time we had seen her.

"What troubles you this time, Elizabeth?" Queried Holmes.

"It is my uncle this time.

"Ah!" I interjected. "I had read about that. Alfred Montcalfe had been murdered in his own house…

"I have already solved a case similar to this. Had he any important government documents?

"No." Said Elizabeth.

"Bank documents?

"Yes, he was an important banker.

"Wonderful! I can solve a case without having large amounts of secrecy involved, and Watson won't have to wait two years before publishing it.

"I am sorry to tell you the stolen documents related directly to the Royal Family.

"Oh." Holmes' burst of joy quickly diminished. "What, exactly, were these documents about?

"Nothing very important. The Queen simply deposited a sum of ten thousand pounds in his bank, and the documents for the transaction were stolen.

"What about the money itself?

"It is still in the bank.

"Interesting.

"There was another item deposited, an heirloom gold watch. It was valued at about five hundred pounds.

"What became of it?

"It is the only thing stolen.

"Most interesting indeed! Watson, can you think of any reason that somebody would steal an old watch and not ten thousand pounds?

"I'm afraid not.

"Neither can I.

"Then why did you ask?

"I was trying to see if you had any possible explanation.

"Why? You have no data yet. You would never hypothesize at this point in time.

"Exactly. I was trying to see what you could come up with given this information. Where is this house?

"It about five kilometers away from here, to the north.

"Excellent. Have you brought a cab?

"Yes, I have.

"Then we shall take that. Come, Watson, the game is once more afoot!

"Fantastic.

Holmes got up from his seat, as did I. Elizabeth, however, stayed in the apartment.

"You are not coming?

"You asked me to stay last time.

"And so you shall stay this time.

"Good. I heard about what happened during the first case, and I don't think my weak constitution could have handled such a thing.

"Indeed." Said Holmes. We exited the room walked down the stairs, and climbed into the cab, immediately giving the driver the instructions Elizabeth had told us.

Not an hour later, we arrived at a large manor, similar to the one belonging to Lord Montcalfe.

"I suppose the Montcalfes have the same general tastes." I noted.

"Indeed."

We exited the cab, Elizabeth having already paid our fare. Upon opening the doors to the manor, we found that the interior was also very similar to the manor we had previously visited.

"Have we come to Lord Montcalfe's manor by mistake?

"I do not believe so. If I am correct, Alfred Montcalfe's room is most likely upstairs, at the end of the hall.

"It seems obvious, what with how similar the rest of the house is.

"Of course. Follow me, Watson.

Holmes started walking, setting a very good pace, and I did as such. Opening the hall door, we found that the corridor was, yet again, almost indistinguishable from the other. As we walked down the corridor, I attempted to start a conversation.

"Perhaps the buildings were designed by the same person?

"That is the most likely explanation. This should be the bedroom.

Holmes opened the door, and was just as surprised as I was to see that the room was completely different from Lord Montcalfe's. Rather than the African design of the first bedroom, its walls were covered with the finest art. The bed was of the utmost construction. As a whole, the room would not have been out of place in Buckingham Palace.

"It would seem Alfred Montcalfe had very good taste!" Exclaimed Holmes. "That window is most likely where the murderer came in from.

"It could be possible that this is another great hoax." I suggested.

"That is also possible." Holmes walked to the window and looked at it. "However, the evidence here would suggest otherwise."

"How so?" I asked.

"Look at the lock. It has been broken. Adding to that, there are footprints here pointing away from the window, and the sill is damaged. Somebody had come through here, without any doubt.

"Then Alfred Montcalfe must really be dead. But why only steal the watch, and not ten thousand pounds?"

"That I still do not know. But I believe a search of this room will give us the answer. I'll look in this desk. Watson, you search through the dressers."

He was directing me to a large, ornate clothe dresser. I opened the top shelf and began rifling through it. Holmes, however, was more methodical in his approach, as he was tapping the legs of the desk to check for hollows. On the third leg, he found what he was looking for.

"Watson, quickly! I believe I have found something of importance in this leg of the desk!"

I immediately walked over, and Holmes broke off the bottom of the leg. A slip of paper, with a large amount of writing on it, fell out.

"Ha! The robber missed one of the transaction forms." Holmes read through it, and gave a start upon reading who it was made out to. "This transaction…it was made by none other than James Moriarty!"

"Of course!" I cried. "He stole the money from his own bank, and hid it by giving it to another bank!"

"But Alfred Montcalfe had figured out that Moriarty was not a member of the royal family, but instead a criminal, and thus, Moriarty had him killed. As for the watch, I believe I can say that it had some sort of instruction on it for his new gang, explaining why it and not the money which was stolen!"

"But if your hypothesis about the laudanum smuggling is correct, that means this is the second time he has targeted a Montcalfe. What personal vendetta could he have?

" I would have to say there is none. It is probably just a great coincidence.

"But this would mean that Moriarty has escaped from the prison.

"Not necessarily, Watson. Remember, Moriarty has a massive amount of connections. There were undoubtedly several I missed. At least one of the prison guards probably works for him. He could have simply given him the message, and thus relay it to an assassin without ever leaving his cell."

"Ingenious!" I cried.

"It would be simplicity itself. Now, we must track down Moriarty and figure out who is working for him."

"Then we shall go to the prison."

"Of course."

We chose to leave the house, having figured out the solution already, and go to the prison where James Moriarty was being held.

We instructed the cab driver to go to the prison as fast as possible, and he did so. However, he went just slightly too fast, and upon arrival, I required a few seconds to get my bearings. I was quickly over it, though, and we continued inside.

To our surprise, a great commotion was going on inside. A number of journalists were running about, asking for questions relating to our quarry.

"Excuse me, what is going on?" I asked a policeman.

"James Moriarty has escaped, and his guard has disappeared."

"Damn it!" Cried Holmes. "True to his word, he has escaped from prison."

"We can track him down." Stated the policeman.

"No, that would be completely impossible. Moriarty has many connections, and is highly intelligent. It would take a miracle to find him."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I am the only person able to prove a worthy match for him. My name is Sherlock Holmes. Perhaps you've read the stories that Dr. John Watson, my colleague, has published?"

"I've heard of them, but I considered them to be pure fiction."

"Considering how embellished they are, that is not far off. May we see the cell."

"I suppose. Come, it is this way." The policeman walked off in the direction of the cell, and we followed as such. The cell he stopped at was surprising, as it was not only ajar, but contained a corpse.

"Good lord!" I cried.

"Most interesting!" Said Holmes, who began investigating the body, tapping it very hard in several places.

After a few minutes, Holmes asked the policeman a single question.

"I assume that Moriarty escaped last night."

The policeman gave a start. "Why, yes, he did. How could you tell?"

"I once made a study on how bruises are produced from a corpse. By the way these bruises were formed, I can safely place the estimate at last night."

"Why would anybody in their right mind study something like that?"

"Clearly, it has some practical application. Now, Watson, can you tell me where this man was injured without moving the body?"

It was a fairly simple exercise, as the bloodstains on the wall could only have been caused by one part of the body. "He was clearly stabbed in the aortic ventricle, as only that would cause such a high pressure burst of fluid."

"Excellent, Watson!"

"But, who is this?"

"I would say some unfortunate guard who discovered their escape. Ah, see here. This lock has been tampered, probably by the guard of this cell. It would seem that Moriarty and his other associate were able to simply walk out of this prison. That is certainly very embarrassing."

"This is ridiculous! One of our men was secretly working for this great criminal mastermind I've never heard of? And they simply walked out of here after murdering another guard? Impossible!"

"Well, can you propose another explanation?"

The policeman paused. "I admit it is the most likely explanation."

"Quite right. Now, the only question that remains is…where is Moriarty?"

()()()

An important question, indeed. The conclusion to this arc will be up eventually. Until then, this is AwkwardVulpix, over and out.


	4. The Final Duel

_The Final Duel_

I had previously published the story of Reichenbach Falls, and how Professor Moriarty was apparently killed there. However, he, along with Sherlock Holmes, was not truly killed. Holmes had discovered this while investigating a particularly strange bank robbery, and discovered that Moriarty instigated it.

"Damn it!" Cried Holmes, having encountered extreme difficulties investigating Moriarty's disappearance. It was approximately six months from Moriarty's escape from prison and disappearance.

"What is it, Holmes?"

"I have been completely unable to get any evidence relating to Moriarty! Nothing! It is as if he has he has completely disappeared!"

"Have you tried the Irregulars?"

"Time and time again, I have! Not even they can help with my investigation!"

"Well, it is Moriarty. He has many connections, and it would be fairly simple for him to simply disappear."

"But I have found and exposed him before! Why can I not do it now?"

"He has learned, Holmes. He knows your methods, and he has adapted his to fit."

"If this is the case, I think it is high time I adapt mine."

Holmes pulled out his pipe, and lit a match.

"If we are to catch Moriarty, we must first think like Moriarty. Watson, if you were the most dangerous criminal in England, and you had just escaped from prison with about fifteen thousand pounds in your possession, what would you do next?"

I shrugged, and said, "I suppose I would attempt to escape the country."

Though I had expected Holmes to have deduced this already, I was surprised when he leaped from his chair, and yelled, "Of course!" He threw the lit match to the ground, thankfully not setting the carpet on fire.

"Holmes, be careful!" I instinctively stamped on the match, but it was already out.

"Sorry, Watson, but I have just realized what Moriarty is planning!"

"What?" Holmes opened the door and ran out of the room. "I will explain on the way!"

I was barely keeping up with Holmes as he ran out the door.

"Cab!" He shouted, more excited than I had ever seen him. A brougham pulled up, and Holmes and I climbed in.

"What are you thinking, Holmes?"

"A steam ship, called the _Friesland_, is departing today for Switzerland. I have great reason to believe that this is the way Moriarty will depart from London and begin a new gang, a new crime syndicate."

"Incredible!"

"Indeed, but ingenious. Here is the ship now! Come, Watson, we still have a chance."

We exited the cab, but were immediately accosted by two thugs.

"Hey, gov'nah, how about you hand over some of the pounds you've got in your pocket?"

"I don't think I should do that." Said Holmes.

"And why not?"

"Because your boss is right behind you."

"Yes, he is. Boys, at ease." The large men stepped aside, revealing a tall, slender man with sunken in eyes. It was Professor Moriarty.

"Hello again, Holmes. If you would be good enough, please, come with me."

It was obvious we had no choice but to follow him. Moriarty began walking to the ship, talking about his plans.

"I assume, Holmes, you have already deduced what I am planning. If not, here is what I wish to accomplish in the future. I am going to escape to Switzerland, obviously, with my own associate, Colonel Sebastian Moran. Once there, I will take you both to Reichenbach falls, and finish the job I couldn't all those years ago."

"We will escape," said I.

"I doubt it." Boasted Moriarty. "You see, I have made sure that every member of the _Friesland's_ crew works for me."

We were all on the boarding ramp now, approaching ever closer to imminent doom.

"However, Holmes, I must say; It was quite fun while it lasted. Unfortunately for you, it will last no more."

Moriarty opened the door to a pristine room, and we all walked inside.

"This is the finest room on the ship. Please, sit down."

It was then, with a great disturbance, we realized it was an exact copy of our flat at 221B Baker Street.

"Do you like it? I tried to get every detail right."

"But…why?"

"Well, in your last hours, I thought I would try to be nice and let you stay in your room." He chuckled. "Really, though, Holmes, I do quite like the design of your apartment, so I requested…a redesign, so to speak. Anyway, by my estimate, we should be reaching the port in approximately two days."

Moriarty pulled a gold watch from his pocket. "And by a separate estimate, we should be departing…about now."

There was a great lurch, and we knew there was no turning back.

"Anyway, I should be leaving, as I need to start planning my first crime in Switzerland."

Moriarty and his henchmen left the room, leaving us to our own devices.

"What do we do, Holmes?"

"I'm thinking, Watson!" Holmes slammed his fist down on the table in rage.

"If this is truly an exact replicate of our rooms, he could have unintentionally left us a manner of escape."

"Unintentionally? Watson, this is Moriarty. He has probably sabotaged anything that even has a chance of allowing our escape."

"Then perhaps we should just run and swim back to the shore."

"Yes, let's get shot. No, Watson, there must be a better way."

Holmes picked up a replica of his pipe from the table and put it in his mouth.

"Think, Watson, there has to be a way for us to escape." Holmes lit a match, set his pipe, and immediately spit it out.

"Bah! Moriarty said he made this as detailed as possible, but I would never allow such detestable ash as this anywhere near my pipe!" Holmes looked at the pipe for a moment, and then got an epiphany.

"Watson, please go down to the bar and get me a bottle of brandy."

"But Holmes, I thought you didn't…oh, I see." I left the room, and took the nearest flight of stairs down to the lower decks of the ship. I was accosted with the smell of cheap alcohol, but I pushed forward, desperate to escape the ship.

"Hello, Watson." Somebody behind me said. I turned around, and saw that it was Moriarty.

"I didn't know you drank cheap gin."

"Er, I don't. It's for Holmes."

"I wasn't aware he drank cheap gin either."

"Actually, I was getting some brandy."

"Oh, really?" Moriarty chuckled a bit, and I did as well. However, he lunged at me with rage, but I stepped aside, avoiding his attack and throwing him to the lower floor, groaning in pain. I grabbed a passing gentleman's bottle of brandy, to his protest, and ran back to our room.

"Holmes, I have got it!" I saw that he had created a pile of furniture and paintings in the center of the room, and was holding his matchbox.

"Good! Pour it on the pile, and we shall break free of Moriarty and his henchmen."

"We must hurry, Holmes! I was attacked by Moriarty, and he will doubtless try again!" I smashed the neck of the bottle against the pile of debris, pouring cheap liqueur all over it.

It was then that Moriarty kicked open the door, yelling, "I've got you now!"

However, he did not have us at all. Holmes lit the match, and threw it towards the pile. I dived towards him before it caught, and we escaped through another door before Moriarty knew what had happened.

"Argh!" He cried, diverting his eyes from the blinding conflagration.

"We did it, Holmes!" I said triumphantly, following Holmes through a window on the wall of his bedroom, or rather mine, as it was the exact copy of the one at Baker Street that I possessed.

"Do not be too sure, Watson. We still have to get off the ship." And, truth to be told, we were accosted by one of Moriarty's thugs.

"Where do you think you're going?" He threw a punch, but it was shoddy, and Holmes easily dodged it. Then, a great explosion rocked the ship, and it seemed that it came from the fire Holmes had set.

"What was that, Holmes?" I said, looking up. I immediately noticed that the large thug was down on the ground, completely unconscious.

"It would appear we hit a gas line. Come, Watson, there is a lifeboat this way." I followed Holmes, running as fast as I could. In a cruel twist of fate, Moriarty was waiting right outside the lifeboat for us, pointing a very large revolver in our direction."

"Sorry, Holmes, but it looks like you and your friend have lost again. I would say that about now everybody is starting to realize what has happened, and I…" Moriarty's speech was interrupted by another, larger explosion, giving Holmes the necessary distraction to attack Moriarty. He wrenched the pistol out of the villain's hands, throwing it out to sea, and punched him in the face, having very little physical effect, but distracting him further.

"Quickly, Holmes!" I said, jumping into the lifeboat. Holmes followed my lead, and I released the catch, sending us to the sea. It was a very good thing that we escaped when we did, for a last explosion came from the ship, finally destroying part of the hull. The ship began sinking, and we rowed out to shore.

Much later, a corpse was found floating in the Thames, that of one of Colonel Sebastian Moran. Only time will tell if Professor James Moriarty is still alive, or his crime has finally come to an end.

However, there is one last part to this story. I do not believe, however, that the world will ever be ready for it, and I am wary of publishing it. It is so incredible, so unbelievable, that even hinting at it here would ruin any hint of credence this story contained.

()()()

Wow, that's a short chapter. But a new Holmes story is coming up, and it's going to, in my opinion, kick ass.


End file.
